Fake
by WritingTrash
Summary: The colors were a mess, and he didn't want them. He didn't want something fake. USUK Soulmate AU
1. I

**So this is a USUK Soulmate AU, as you might have guessed from the summary, because who doesn't love those. Basically, you live in black and white until you touch your soulmate for the first time. This will be eight chapters long, and posted every weekend, it'll probably vary the specific days.**

 **I'm very proud of some of the stuff in here, so please enjoy! Don't forget to follow, favorite and review!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.**

The world was absent of color. The dull greys and whites and blacks, anything that was truely original was nonexistent.

They said he'd see the colors one day. That's what they always said. That it would happened one day. No specific time or idea of when or how. It could be one day, one month, one year, just one day. Don't cry, Alfred, you'll see color one day!

They never asked why he cried, or why he was so crushed over the grey grass and white sky. It wasn't real. It wasn't fair.

But he had stopped crying over the grey world long ago. He gave up on it. He didn't believe in soulmates anymore. The more he thought of the mysterious future soulmate he had somewhere, the more he realized the truth. Fate was completely and utterly fake. How could anything decide who he should spend the rest of his life with, who fall in love with?

Alfred F. Jones had turned seventeen last July. He attended the International High School in New York City as a senior. His closest friend was Honda Kiku, a smaller, less popular, yet smart, Japanese boy. Life was good, and it was normal, but Alfred didn't believe in soulmates anymore.

"Ohayōgozaimasu, Alfred-san," Kiku greeted as the American student sat down next to him. "How was your summer?"

Alfred smiled at him, then shrugged. "It was fine. Officially seventeen though! My mom almost cried at my party."

"I know, I was there." The shorter reminded. Kiku had dark hair, grey eyes, and light grey skin. Alfred had no idea what color his friend's eyes, hair, and skin actually were. Even if someone were to tell him what color, he wouldn't know what that meant. It was all grey to him.

His own parents would tell him the names of the colors of his own features, but he always forgot the names. When all Alfred ever saw in the mirror was grey hair and lighter grey eyes, there wasn't much of a need to remember names of the things he couldn't see.

"Yeah. You heard about Feliciano yet?" Alfred dug through his bag for his notebook. They had this same teacher last year for Trigonometry, this year it would be Calculus.

"No, what about him?" He asked, obviously a little worried for his Italian friend.

"I heard that he met his soulmate. He went home to Europe over the break and met this German guy. I was going to ask, but I won't see him 'til ELA." Alfred explained.

"How lucky." Kiku sighed, somewhat dreamily. The other student still believed in soulmates, unlike Alfred, like the rest of the world. "What about you?"

"What about me?" Alfred frowned.

"Your soulmate?" Kiku clarified.

"You know how I feel about that junk." He shrugged. Kiku was actually one of the few who did know about Alfred's disbelief. His twin, Matthew, was the only other who knew. Alfred knew better than to tell his parents, they loved the whole soulmates thing. They were soulmates after all. If the wrong people found out, he'd be an outcast. Their whole society, the whole world, was built on fate's bullshit. He could pretend, but he couldn't believe. They couldn't make him.

He busied himself by writing his name in sharpie on the new notebook. The Japanese frowned softly and set a hand on Alfred's arm to get his attention. "Perhaps you should have more hope. You don't know that fate is wrong about your soulmate."

"I don't know that fate's right." He argued, his friend pulled away as the teacher entered and the bell rang.

"I won't force you to believe anything, but I do think you're being premature about your opinion." At that, Kiku dropped the subject, at least he knew when to drop it. Then, their first class of the year began.

Alfred had his reasons for not believing. The whole fate thing was bullshit. He was a scientific person, he currently was in the most advanced science class and wanted to be an astronomer or astronaut or some sort of space engineer. The American didn't like anything that didn't have any proof or facts. If you couldn't prove it, what made it real?

The monochrome world he was born into didn't have any proof as to _why._ Why couldn't he see color just like his parents could? Why would he be able to when he met his soulmate? What made his soulmate his? What did soulmates have to do with color at all? Why did everyone let fate just lead them blindly? It didn't make any sense, none of it did. Therefore, Alfred didn't believe in it. He couldn't make himself do it. Even as a child, before he had really realized the invalidity of it all, he never really believed. He pretended.

Most people found their soulmates after the age of eighteen. There were the rare few who found theirs in school. His brother had been one of those rare. Matthew attended the same school as Alfred, same grade, since they were twins. Matt was in several of Alfred's classes, but he usually was with a different group of friends.

He was the less popular, quieter, less noticeable of the two, yet they got along great. Alfred tried to include Mattie in everything, but didn't usually pressure anything. Same thing vise-versa, Matt didn't pressure Alfred about the whole soulmate thing. He didn't mind his non-belief, and didn't act like he was crazy for having that mindset or try to prove him wrong. They hung out a lot, most of their close friends knew each other. Alfred loved Matt, and wouldn't trade him for anyone else. But last year, when a new student transferred to their school, and that when things went downhill.

Since their school was international and in a good suburban area, near the big city, but not in middle of it, they had a high rate of new students. It was at least two per year, usually more. The new student was named Gilbert Beilschmicht. He was from Germany. He was Matthew's soulmate. After they had met, things had gotten weird between the twins. Matthew would question Alfred about his soulmate. He mentioned color so carelessly, he fought about his disbelief. The twins weren't close anymore.

"So!" The teacher began loudly, Alfred returned his attention. "We have a new student!" There were some snickers and he and Kiku exchanged looks. Introducing the new kid like they were in elementary school, unnecessary.

A new teenager walked in. He was shorter than Alfred, but taller than Kiku. He looked fairly grouchy, probably because of the early hour. He had the messiest grey hair and biggest darker grey eyebrows Alfred had ever seen, but it somehow seemed to fit him. He was paler, freckles dusted on his skin and bright silverish colored eyes. He was pretty cute actually."This is Arthur Kirkland, he's British, care to say anything, Arthur?"

"Er- Hello," Already laughs, the French kid in the back had burst out laughing. He earned a glare from both Arthur and the teacher before he continued. "I'm from London, and I look forward to studying here." He was obviously not the best public speaker. His words seemed fake too, Alfred bet he still wanted to be across the Atlantic Ocean, far from here. A Brit, too; there weren't many of those.

Francis and his trio still snickered as Arthur found his seat, right behind Alfred's. The American felt a little bad. He had been with this group of kids since fifth grade, plus the new couple every year, but he hadn't had to deal with being the new kid in a while. Deciding to be nice, Alfred turned around as the teacher started taking roll to talk to the British teenager.

"Hey, I'm Alfred." He smiled, Arthur glanced up, previously busy digging through his book sack.

"Oh, hello, Arthur." He returned and offered his hand, the American reached out to shake.

"Mr. Jones! How about you turn around and stop bothering Mr. Kirkland." They both jumped, Alfred quickly returned his attention to the front, shooting Arthur another smile. He seemed interesting, just something about him, an inner feeling. Maybe they'd end up being close friends.


	2. II

**Don't teachers always ruin the best moments?**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.**

It turned out that Arthur was in Alfred's next class, ELA. Arthur was definitely more gifted in deciphering dead peoples' writings than the American. They both walked in together and Alfred decided that this would be a good time to get to know the Brit more. For some reason, he wanted them to be friends.

"So, why'd you move to America?" Alfred started off the conversation. They were supposed to be doing some partner work on researching the background of the book they'd start next week, but no one was actually doing that. Conversations of the summer holidays buzzed around them.

"My brother, he wanted to go to college here and my mother thought it would be a great idea if we packed up the whole family and moved here. So far it hasn't been enjoyable." He grumbled, his dark eyebrows furrowed.

"Yeah, I haven't really moved much in my life, in fifth grade I transferred here, but I've lived in America all my life." Alfred awkwardly added, then took a minute to scribble down an answer before continuing on a different topic. "I've got a brother too, his name is Matthew, we're twins."

"I have four older brothers." Arthur returned and he paled.

"Well shit, you win." The British teenager smirked.

"Usually they're not bad, they picked on me more when we were younger, but the oldest one moved out, the second oldest found his soulmate, the third is at college here, and the fourth is taking a year off of school before finding a college that will take his sorry arse. That leaves me." He explained, picking at his pencil.

"That sounds sad." Alfred answered.

The Brit glanced up,"It's not sad, I love it without them, much better without one of them waiting around a corner to attack me. What about you and your brother?"

Bad topic. "Oh! We're great." Alfred lied. He felt a little bad for lying so easily to him, but it was complicated, and he didn't want to explain it to a stranger.

"Good. So, what other classes do you have?" Arthur continued, thankfully not pushing the subject. Arthur was in a lower science and in European History rather than American History like Alfred. That left PE as their last class together. That was good, Alfred need a friend in there, Kiku was the hour before. That day was just handing out lockers to everyone. Tomorrow they would be actually be changing into gym clothes and starting a game.

When he got home, he already had a worksheet from math to finish, so Alfred chose to lock himself up in his room. Anything to get away from Matt and Gilbert's flirting. They seemed to like to rub it in. The magic universe chose us to be together and now we're going question and annoy you about your beliefs. Couldn't they get a life?

Alfred could here Gilbert's loud talking through the floor, as he was upstairs, an "awesome" every few words. The American tried to focus on his homework, but after another minute of them, Alfred needed a break. He shoved away from his desk and went to the kitchen, snacks always helped. Instead of a snack, he got his twin and his boyfriend. Damn, he thought they were in the living room.

"Oh, hey Alfred!" About time you showed up! Still seeing everything unawesome in black n' white?" The German laughed loudly. He was the whitest person Alfred had ever seen, bright white hair and barely greyer skin. His dark grey uniform clashed with the paleness of him, but complemented his sharp grey eyes.

"Yeah." Alfred muttered. It wasn't that he hated Gilbert, he was sort of an asshole, though. They could probably be decent friends, or at least brother-in-laws if he'd respect Alfred's non-belief in the whole color-soulmates bullshit. You can't miss what you never had and he had never had colors.

"Lame! You should find your soulmate soon! Everything's much more awesome with color. Like my eyes are the awesome red color! You can't even tell, you're missing the awesomeness of looking at me in color." He kept talking and bugging and awesoming, how could this guy be Mattie's soulmate?

"Sure." Alfred tried to ignore the German. No matter what filter Gilbert was in, Alfred still bet he was a jerk. He dug through the fridge, claiming a silver Sprite and a dark grey bag of chips from the cabinet.

"So?" The white teenager asked, Alfred straightened up and look at him. He must have asked something while Alfred was ignoring him.

"So what?"

"Not even listening to awesome me, so bummed about it. What about your soulmate?" Gilbert added, then repeated.

"What about it?" Alfred humored him, knowing immediately that he had nothing to say on the matter, nothing positive at least. There wasn't even a matter to begin with.

"Well are you doing anything to find yours? Like going to meets and shaking hands with everyone, all that crap?" He asked, the American had to refrain from rolling his eyes.

"Of course not."

"Why not? Don't you want to find your soulmate?"

Hesitation, no, he really didn't. He didn't care about soulmates, they weren't real. "No."

"What?" Gilbert looked shocked, and looked back at Mattie. His brother hadn't said anything the whole time. "Why the hell not?"

He had already gone this far, why go back now? "Because, honestly, soulmates are bullshit." He shrugged.

"Al-" Matthew began, only to be cut off by the German.

"THEY AREN'T BULLSHIT, ARSCHLOCH! HOW DO YOU EXPLAIN THE COLORS!? OR ME AND MATTHEW!?" Gilbert shouted, obviously furious.

"YOU AND MATTHEW AREN'T REAL!" Alfred yelled back, the adrenaline causing his mouth to act while his brain didn't. The two teenagers in black and white stared with wide eyes.

"How can you say that?" Mattie whispered, looking upset, almost offended.

Alfred sighed shakily, Gilbert wanted to hit him, he could tell. "I know you. I see you with him. I knew you before you met him, and I know you now. What you two have isn't _real_. It doesn't matter, not in the long haul. It's built on something that told you to be together. It's not real. I know you, Matt. This isn't real, and you're not going to be happy with him, a year from now, a decade. Not really. You might say you are, but I know you won't be. You're only together because something said you should be."

" _Get out_." Matthew had to hate him now. It was obvious. He was shaking as he said those two words, but Alfred wasn't sure if it was from anger or fear. He knew he was right, he had to know. Matthew wasn't stupid. Alfred complied. He wished he could change it, but he was right. Matthew and Gilbert weren't real.

A week passed in between then and the Friday PE class. Alfred and Matthew didn't speak. Alfred didn't blame his brother, he was the one who said it all, but it still hurt. They weren't the same anymore, he didn't think they'd ever get back to what they had been before.

Alfred managed to push his brother away from his mind at school, Arthur was a main component in this. The Brit and American had grown closer, Alfred dared to call Arthur one of his better friends. He was full of stories, unlike the others, whose Alfred had already heard or lived through.

"Then I almost burnt the house down. Now my mother won't let me near a microwave anymore." Arthur finished and Alfred burst out laughing. This was the story of Arthur's ban of microwaves, ending with a night stay at the fire department. The locker room was full of chatter as boys trickled in from their last classes and began to change for gym.

"Wow! That's great! I didn't think anyone could suck that badly at cooking. It's so easy." Alfred returned, finally cracking his combination and opening his locker.

The Brit had already begun to change,"Its not-" They both froze in the lively and crowded room. In Arthur pulling off his shirt and Alfred reaching for his own uniform, their skin had brushed. The touch was quick, skin was warm, the sensation didn't even linger. Yet their worlds erupted into color anyway.


	3. III

**Hey I'm actually getting some reviews I'm so happy:**

 **alguien22792: I honestly feel so bad for Arthur, he tries so hard and Alfred's so hard to deal with. Thanks for reviewing and stuff.**

 **justlikeCanada: There's a ton of cliffhangers in the future, I'm sorry I didn't mean to it just fit like that. At least you only have to wait a week! Thanks for reviewing and stuff, you're a pretty avid reader of my trashy stories, huh?**

 **takuya: You're back! You make me so happy like I think you've reviewed all my more recent trash at least twice. You're so amazing. Anyway, oh yeah Alfred going to lie to everyone. He way too stubborn to admit to anybody, including himself. There isn't really a color soulmate class, that's kind of shown in this chapter. It also isn't a sudden change like now you have a soulmate and suddenly know about all these colors. The intention is for the soulmates to realize and learn together this new experience, something new for them to share. Yeah that's not how it's going down in this case. Hope that answered your questions, thanks for reading and everything!**

 **Sarah Livel: Oh well then you're not going like the next couple endings, quite a few cliffhangers, I'm sorry. Thanks for reading!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.**

Alfred didn't want this. He didn't want him, or whatever they were supposed to be. He didn't want this. So he ran.

The taller teenager pulled on his gym clothes as Arthur still was frozen in shock. Discovering a soulmate was a shocking thing, to be fair. Then he ran. Alfred could hear Arthur start to call after him as he ducked and weaved between the other changing boys. He darted into the bathroom, for now that was the only place he could escape to.

Alfred caught his reflection before he locked himself in the last stall. It was all so strange, too strange. He didn't have any names from the new things he saw, he knew what colors were and he knew their names, but he had no idea which they were. Was the shade of sky that his eyes were called red or brown? Was his hair green or yellow? That didn't matter right now. He needed to get away from Arthur.

He locked himself in a stall. Panic and fear left Alfred breathing unevenly, leaning on the wall. This couldn't be happening. He didn't want colors, or Arthur, or a soulmate. He was fine without one.

"Alfred!" He held his breath as Arthur called his name. There wasn't anyone else in there, if he look for his feet, he'd find him. The American wasn't past standing on the toilet to avoid him. "Alfred?" It became silent again. The American didn't dare respond.

It wasn't really Arthur, he was a good friend, maybe even a great one, maybe even more. It was what they are supposed to be now. Why did he have to be this with him now? Why couldn't he get to know him, before trusting fate that Arthur was right for him? What if fate made a mistake?

Alfred heard the other boys start to leave the locker room for the gym, but there weren't any receding footsteps.

"Alfred? I know you're in here, so please come out." He continued to be silent. " _I_ _want to be your soulmate_ ," He had sounded desperate with those last words, but they were the worst Alfred had ever heard.

They didn't know each other yet Arthur had already decided that they were meant to be. Alfred didn't want to be meant to be! He wanted to make his own choice. If given that, maybe his choice would've been Arthur. Maybe it wouldn't have. It didn't matter, they would never know now. Alfred stared at the unoriginal bathroom ceiling, trying to keep his nerves and tears in check.

The Brit finally left and the American stayed silent. He could almost hear his heartbeat. He felt like crying, although he hadn't cried since he broke his arm in sixth grade. Alfred wasn't a crier, not anymore.

He had to go out to gym eventually. If he skipped, either his parents or his coach would kill him, whoever found him first. Either seemed better than facing Arthur right now.

He'd just go out there and ignore him. The American unlocked the stall and caught his reflection again.

He looked just the same, colors didn't change his slightly messy hair and the one piece that always stuck up or his simple glasses. It's not like it changed or helped. Color wasn't as great as people made it up to be. He left the bathroom.

As he guessed, Arthur tried to approach and talk to him several times. Well, several was an understatement. Alfred kept ignoring him or avoiding him. At some point the American got hit in the head with a dodge ball while distracted in his own thoughts and had to sit in the corner for the rest of class. He didn't know who hit him, but he would've thanked them for getting rid of the annoying Brit. Arthur couldn't follow him over there.

Couldn't he take a hint? Alfred didn't want a soulmate, he didn't want to be forced to be with him, simply because fate said they should.

Class ended and Alfred rushed into the locker room, quickly changing. He was mostly dressed by the time Arthur reached his locker, since he was in the back of the line.

"Alfred! Are you going to say anything?" Arthur asked quietly. The taller of the two continued his silence, swinging his book sack over his shoulder and left the locker room. Since the were the last class, they could freely leave campus once they were done changing. If he rode the bus, he'd have to stay until it showed up, so the American would walk home. Alfred briskly walked down the hall to the doors, all he had to do was make it home, Arthur didn't know where he lived, thankfully.

Arthur didn't follow him. Alfred left the school grounds, he lived about ten minutes away by bus, but he was walking today. That meant getting out quicker, even if it was twenty minutes longer to get home.

As he walked he took in the color of everything. It was bright, chaotic, mismatched and thrown together, like a child's art project. Too many negative adjectives fillled his head to describe the colored world. The color of the road didn't blend with the cool colored grass, an unwanted addition to the scenery. Flowers of many shades and pigments were thrown in. He still had no names for the hues he saw.

Why was he not allowed to see this all before? His six year old self would have marveled at the colored world, instead of being stuck in the blacks and whites. Fourteen year old Alfred would have been more excited about all that shopping if he could pick the colors of his shirts, rather than picking the most attractive grey.

"Color is for the adults, you'll understand later, Alfred." Those words of his mother had stuck with him for the last ten years. He wasn't an adult. Not in any way. Yet here it was, the coloration he had always wondered about. The chaos of it all was almost unsettling.

Color was a privilege, now he realized he didn't really even want it.


	4. IV

**Hey hey people I'm back with a cliffhanger! Enjoy!**

 **Review:**

 **alguien22792: Oh yeah Alfred's pretty inconsiderate of Arthur. I mean I see it from both points too. Theses definitely the gaps and unanswered questions from Alfred, but they this all they know. They were raised and taught and its something so prominent in their society, like learning to drive a car in our world. I imagine getting rejected by your one true love kind of sucks though. Why must I rant so much? Thanks for reviewing!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.**

Alfred made it home without incident. Since he had practically ran from the school campus and it was a Friday night, he beat Matthew home too. At least he didn't have to awkwardly walk past them in the living room, or starve for an hour while they claimed the kitchen.

The American climbed the stairs to his room, abandoning his book sack on the floor and plopped on his starred comforter, messily covering his bed. The house was silent, so was he. Alfred rolled over after a few minutes of still recovery, and finally took his phone out.

The screen light seemed brighter with the added pigment, the case a brighter shade of whatever color it was. Perhaps it was time for him to actually put some names with these colors.

Alfred searched for color. Images flooded the screen, names and shades and hues. He found a chart, listing them all, a few shades next to each word.

Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple. They sounded like names of distant relatives, he knew them, but couldn't place them. He used his chart to assign names to the things he saw.

His bed covers were blue, with white stars. The sky was blue, and so was the book sitting on his desk. The dirty sneakers in the corner were a mix of blue, green, brown and white. The shelves were brown, his pants, the box. The tree outside his window was brown, green spotted leaves shading the green grass beneath it. The leaves had spots of orange and red, a sign of the coming cold.

His pillow was red. So were his glasses, another book, a poster on the wall. His sweatshirt was red, and a cleaner pair of sneakers was another shade of red. His bookshelf was a rainbow, and the closet was an assortment of shades of everything. Alfred stood, sure he had classified everything, every item had a color, every color had a name.

The American entered the bathroom, to classify himself. He had caught his colored reflection before, but this was different. After seventeen years of black and white reflections, yellow hair and blue eyes was odd. He was so used to the grey. It looked wrong somehow. He clarified that his hair was supposedly blond, rather than yellow, and his eyes blue, just like the sky. The glasses were crimson, and his skin tan. He almost didn't seem right this way. It didn't seem like him staring back in that mirror.

Arthur had green eyes. Alfred couldn't force away that small fact.

Matthew got home ten minutes after that, stayed long enough for their parents to come home, only to leave, saying he was going to Gilbert's. He said nothing to Alfred, and Alfred said nothing in return. He sat with his parents for dinner.

Alfred did not say he knew the table was brown. He didn't say he knew the plates were white and the walls were beige and the floors were brown. He didn't tell that his parents were both blond, his mother's eyes were purple, or his father's were blue. They didn't need to know.

Alfred stayed in his room, not doing much of anything inside. He tried to distract himself by doing his homework, or cleaning up the discarded clothes, but nothing could really distract him. He still had to face Arthur somehow, unless he could convince his parents to move far away between now and Monday. There was nothing Alfred could really say. He didn't want a soulmate, and that hadn't changed now that he had found his supposed soulmate. Arthur didn't change the last seventeen years. Nothing did. Nothing could.

The color was much more of a distraction, along with the idea of speaking to Arthur. A bright green t-shirt in the corner was more obvious than a grey one. Alfred sighed, rolling onto his back, abandoning the math book. He wasn't getting anything done anyway. Arthur plagued his thoughts. A symptom of finding your soulmate, all you could think of was them. All Alfred wanted to do was forget him.

There was a knock at his door. "Alfred?" His mother asked.

"What?"

"Your friend's here, he said you forgot a book at school." Probably Kiku, although it was weird his mother didn't address him by name. Kiku was often at his house.

"Okay. I'm coming." Alfred jumped up and left his room, walking to the living room. Kiku was not there.

His mother was sat on the couch with Arthur. She was happily talking, she was a talker. They both glanced up at him. His hair blond, lighter than Alfred's own. Those green, green eyes full of too much emotion and failing to hide it. Something else flickered in his eyes, but he immediately dismissed it. The Brit stood, and offered a textbook to him. European History. Alfred didn't take European History.

"Can we talk?" Said those eyes. _Please_.


	5. V

**Usually there aren't this many cliffhangers, I swear.** **You guys are honestly hilarious, like everyone is hating on Alfred.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.**

No, they couldn't talk. Talking meant something. Alfred didn't want anything with the Brit. He didn't want a soulmate from him. He didn't even want to be friends. Not after all this.

Of course his mother decided to interject, not able to sense the atmosphere for her life. Alfred was guilty of this too, but not as bad as her. He couldn't really blame her, she didn't know they were soulmates, or Alfred's beliefs on the subject.

"Oh, how about you take him outside, I just did some gardening! What's your name again, honey?" She smiled, Arthur didn't break their stare.

"Arthur Kirkland."

More silence. If he stood still enough, would they leave?

"Alfred? Go talk with your friend." Damn it.

"Fine."

Alfred led Arthur to the back door. Outside was the garden, as expected. His mother had a love for landscaping. The grass was perfectly cut, browning in some spots, flowers were starting to wilt in the autumn weather. It was September after all. The trees' leaves were turning warmer colors, browns, reds and oranges all spotting the blue sky above. Before the trees' leaves just looked like grey static, spread over a lighter grey sky.

"How the hell did you find my house?" Alfred began, honestly curious. He claimed a spot on the cement bench. Arthur sat next to him, closer than friends should. Because fate told them they weren't friends, they were _more_. He wouldn't have done that before.

"Your brother is in my history class. I asked for his address, I guessed you lived in the same place. I was right." Arthur was looking at him. Alfred became quite interested in a fallen leaf, sitting on the brick path.

"Why did you run?" No exchanged looks, no words hung in the air between them. There was nothing.

"Alfred?" He was too quiet to count as a whisper. His voice had the same tone as that last sentence in the bathroom. _"I want to be your soulmate."_

"I didn't think it'd be like this. My parents always act like meeting your soulmate was the best thing ever. My brother did, too. There wasn't any running or hiding or tracking them down at their houses." Looking at the British teenager would be giving up, wouldn't it? "I'm sorry."

Arthur took in a shaky breath. " _I'm sorry_ , I'm not a good soulmate, or whatever it is." His voice was weak, and so, so desperate. " _I want this with you._ I really do."

"That's the problem!" Alfred exclaimed finally, turning to Arthur. His green eyes looked watery.

"What?"

"That's the freaking problem." The American ran a hand through his hair and looked back to the sky, away from the almost crying teenager. "You don't know me. Like at all! A month ago, you didn't even know my name and I didn't know yours either. You want this so badly, but why? Because the universe told you so by showing you color? Fate thought we'd be a good match? What if fate was _wrong_?" Alfred eventually looked back to him in his rant, Arthur looked shocked. He looked terrified.

"Fate can't be wrong..." He eventually disagreed. "Our whole way of life, everyone's way of life, it's built on soulmates. Fate isn't just _wrong_ , Alfred."

The American looked to him."Do you know that?"

He opened his mouth to argue, but thought it over and looked to his lap instead.

"Just because everyone says that's how it is, doesn't mean it's true. Fate could be wrong about all of us, but people believe it anyway. Soulmates could hate each other, but they'd still get together because of fate. Fate could be right too. Fate could be a flawless matchmaker. The real problem is that we don't know. I'm not going to put my faith in colors and fate, wrong or right." Alfred finished.

"Alfred-"

He stood, ready to leave, to go anywhere but here. He didn't want to watch Arthur cry. Instead, the Brit gripped his hand and tried to make him sit down again.

"Don't leave!" They both ignored the warmth of the touch and the intensity of the colors around them.

"I told you why! Can't you just leave me be!?" Alfred returned.

"You haven't even heard anything from me! Stop being selfish and listen to me!" Arthur stood, too, trying to make him stay. He was several inches shorter than Alfred, only as tall as his nose.

"I'm not being selfish."

"Yes, you are. Listen to me."

A sigh. "Fine."

The two returned to their concrete bench.

"I can understand why you think that all. It makes sense. I won't judge you for thinking that. Although, I can't make myself think that way. I was raised on soulmates and fate and all of it, we _both_ were. In the world we live in, soulmates are important. They control people's lives. I'm not giving up on you." He claimed.

"I don't believe in soulmates." Alfred argued desperately, why couldn't he see that?

"So then I'm not a soulmate. A friend, mate, boyfriend, partner, husband, whatever. I'm not giving up on you. I want you to feel the same way I do, of your own accord. Maybe you still need a push, and I'll be giving it. I'll help you fall in love with me, the old fashioned way." Arthur seemed quite proud of his decision.

"But you're only doing this because of soulmates! You wouldn't want to if you didn't know. If I was just a random teenager, you wouldn't want to be in love with me." The American said. "You aren't in love with me. Not really."

Instead of arguing some more, Arthur stood. The British teenager faced Alfred, and took his face in his hands. The American found himself unable to run, something inside told him not to. Maybe that was the thing that gave him the ability to see all the messy and bright colors.

Arthur kissed him. Alfred flinched in his grasp, although Arthur seemed to be enjoying himself. After a short moment, Alfred eventually gave in, unable to escape so he might as well enjoy it. That's what he told himself after all. Their mouths moved together, it was a bit sloppy to be honest. Neither was very experienced, being taught to wait for any relationship until their soulmate was found.

Their mouths broke away, both panting slightly from the burst of energy and lack of air. Alfred felt dizzy, even if he was sitting still.

Arthur's hands left his red cheeks after once sentence. "I happened to fancy you before I knew."

Alfred blinked, puzzled. "Tomorrow. I'll be at the library if you'd like to stop by. Your choice. Although, I might drop by your house more often now that I know where it is." The Brit smirked slightly. If Alfred wasn't already not talking to Matthew, he definitely wouldn't after this.

"Why should I? I told you how I feel and what I believe. Do you think a kiss is going to change that all?" Alfred returned bitterly.

"I said your choice!" He called, beginning to return to the backdoor. Arthur left with seven words."But my choice is to convince you!"

The door swung shut, making the window shake slightly. The nerve of him, what did he not understand? Why did he have to be so stubborn? Alfred watched a leaf fall to the grass, a red boat in a sea of green. It was out of place, just like everything else in color.


	6. VI

**Two more chapters after this!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.**

Alfred never noticed how grand the library looked from the outside. He frowned, standing on the stone steps, there were too many. Too much physical activity to just go read.

Why the hell was he here? Arthur said it was his choice, yet he came anyway. His mind kept wandering to Arthur, the library, the books, all against his will. His feet brought him there, but he wished he didn't stand on those stairs now.

He could leave. Arthur would never know he even showed up, walked the mile to get there, stood on the steps outside for the better part of fifteen minutes.

Why couldn't he leave? Alfred, irritated with himself, Arthur, soulmates, and society itself, stomped up the steps and opened the heavy wooden doors.

Alfred had been to the library multiple times for school, although he didn't go here freely like Arthur must do. It was the first week of school, there were no essays, projects, or papers to be done.

Inside, first was the librarians' desk, computers to check in and out. To both sides, standing much taller than he was and all down the long aisles were the bookshelves. Every color was shown on a spine. The right was fiction, left was nonfiction. He had always gone to the left, but where had Arthur gone.

"Looking for something, dear?" An elderly woman approached him. Her pale hair in a bun with a pencil and a stack of books as tall as a child in her arms.

"Er- Have you seen another teenager about my age?" He began, barely remembering to _not_ mention the colors of his hair and eyes. "About this tall, and messy hair and he's British."

She hummed, looking to the ceiling. "I think I did, try the right back corner, by the children's books."

"Thank you." Alfred hoped he had already left. The children's books was an odd place, but maybe he was into that. Like he continued to say, Alfred _didn't_ know him. The librarian nodded and continued on her own path.

The American walked along the aisle, looking over the titles every once in a while. There were wooden tables in between shelves and aisles, some empty, or some littered with books, people, papers, or sometimes all three.

When he reached the children's section, a blond boy bumped into him. He had the same color hair as Arthur, and nearly as messy, too. Alfred wasn't able to catch his face, as he was rushing past him with a loud whispered, "Sorry!" There were a few other kids, but the blond stood out the most.

Finally, he found Arthur sitting alone at a wooden table near a brightly colored kids table. He was reading a thick book, that probably didn't belong in this section. He wasn't here for the books, and definitely not the quiet. None of the children there today knew much about whispering.

Alfred sat at the table too, Arthur took a minute to look up and notice him. "Alfred!" He loudly whispered, obviously shocked. "I didn't think you would come."

"I didn't want to, but I ended up here anyway." The American huffed,"Why are you hanging out over here? This doesn't seem like what you'd be interested in."

"I'm not. My mum made me bring-" He was cut off as the same blond kid approached their table. He had a face full of freckles and blue eyes, sparking with mischief.

"Oi, Arthur! Can we go now!? Whoever you're supposed to be meeting probably stood you up!" He whined, quite loudly.

"-my brother." Arthur finished with a look of irritation. Alfred was more than confused. He had only mentioned four older brothers to him. Another reminder of how little he knew the Brit, there was a whole brother he didn't know about. Arthur had begun scolding him about interrupting people and being mean to his elders, specifically, Arthur.

Alfred looked between the two. Is this a sign he should leave? Maybe fate was doing him a favor finally. "Besides, my friend didn't stand me up, he's right there. You were being too much of a brat to notice him." Arthur gestured to Alfred finally. "This is-" He couldn't get more than two words before the youngest interrupted him again.

"Hello! I'm Peter! Sorry you had to meet Arthur, he's a jerk!" The child exclaimed, several people looked over at them. The older brother looked embarrassed and angry, it was an odd look.

A librarian came over and informed them that if they weren't quiet they had to leave. That worked for Peter, he was ready to go anyway. That's how Alfred ended up walking through the nearby park as Peter ran ahead and Arthur cursed his brother under his breath.

"I thought you only had four older brothers." Alfred broke Arthur's string of insults to the shorter blond.

"Sadly, no. Peter is the baby, he's eleven. It would be better if I only had older brothers, they at least leave me alone, and I'm not stuck with them for the whole afternoon." Arthur sighed, both watching as Peter found a play set and joined another boy on the swings. They found a park bench nearby.

"He doesn't seem to like you much." A glance at Arthur and he added,"You don't like him much either, huh?"

"He's an annoying brat who thinks the whole world is centered around him. But he's my brother, and I can't change that." The Brit glanced up to the sky.

Alfred hummed in agreement. A moment of silence passed. "Why did you come today? I thought you wouldn't."

"I dunno really. I guess something was telling me to, and I kinda came against my own will."

"That makes no sense."

"I know."

More quiet. Really it wasn't quiet, not with the screaming kids and talking adults and the barking dogs, yet it seemed like it was.

"I don't want to be your soulmate."

"Don't be then." Arthur looked over at him.

"I don't think you can do that, I wish I could, but still." Alfred shrugged.

"You said it was a label, soulmates. It wasn't real. We can still be something else, friends, best friends, boyfriends, mates..." His list trailed off.

Alfred thought about it. He was right, soulmates were a label. He could pretend they weren't, well they weren't anyway. There was nothing stopping him from never seeing Arthur again. But he didn't want that. He still liked Arthur as a friend. Maybe they could be that for a while.

"Can we just be friends for now? I want to know you first, _if_ I decide anything." The _if_ was important, there were no promises, Arthur needed to know that.

"Sure, I'd like that." The other teenager smiled over at him, Alfred smiled back, but his smile wasn't like Arthur's. It wasn't that genuine _yet_.


	7. VII

**I'm finally done with school! Summer equals more writing time so yay! Anyway I know you're all waiting for this so here.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.**

Change was much more obvious with color. The autumn weather was gone in blink of an eye, cold white replacing it.

"What are your plans for Christmas?" Arthur asked during lunch outside on a early December day. The day itself seemed to shiver.

"Spend time with my family, ignore my brother and his soulmate, pretend to love that math textbook my aunt gives me, etc." Alfred answered, watching a silver snowflake dare to fall. His Christmases were full of relatives he saw once a year, cousins he couldn't remember, and the age old question: where's your soulmate? There were a thousand variations of the question, the _accusation_ , but they all meant the same thing. Just no one knew he had already found them.

The American stole a glance at Arthur, he was busy struggling with a box of rocks, or were they scones? There wasn't much of a difference honestly. It had been about three months. Since they met, since they were granted colors.

Granted. Not the right word. Alfred preferred plagued.

They were friends. Just friends. It was somewhat comforting, knowing that they were friends. Of course they weren't. The voice in his head whispered that at times. They weren't just friends, like Alfred liked to pretend.

There were still the stolen moments, things friends didn't share, things friends didn't do. They sat far too close, for warmth he'd argue. They smiled and looked and watched too often. They almost kissed once, the fall festival their school held, a cool October.

It consisted of an autumn leaf, falling into golden hair. Green eyes got close, a freckled hand rescued the leaf from the golden sea. Their noses almost touched, eyes met. Their breath wasn't individual anymore, a combined cloud of smoke in the frosty air. The blue eyes pulled away, falling to the red, orange, and brown static of leaves.

It had seemed too right.

His heart fluttered in the close moments, the butterflies would fly. It wasn't love. Alfred wasn't in love, neither was he falling. He couldn't be.

"Alfred!"

"Hm?" He had zoned out again.

"I said, you can come over for Christmas Eve if you'd like. My brothers will be over, you could meet them." The teenager told, taking a bite of his burnt stone. No wonder Brits had such bad teeth, they eat rocks.

"I dunno, I think my mom would probably kill me. She likes for me to be social, at least until I have a soulmate." Alfred shrugged. His apatite had vanished with a few bites of his sandwich.

"Then why don't you tell her?" Arthur murmured, getting closer. It could be passed off as warmth for onlookers, but Alfred knew that had nothing to do with it.

Arthur was in love with him.

"No. I can survive a few days of family." The bell rang to signal the end of lunch. The two blonds said their goodbyes, they wouldn't meet again until PE.

American history was the same as always, figures and dates to memorize. Reminders to study over the Christmas break. PE was nothing special, a last day of some random sport Alfred excelled in and Arthur didn't. He would curse American sports for being idiotic and impossible rather than admit he couldn't catch a ball for his life.

It was December 25th when the exciting things happened. Not for Alfred, of course but for his family. The tree was decorated in an assortment of colors, sparkling reds and shiny golds. It was the colors that gave him away. He thought they were a menace anyway, he didn't want them.

Alfred had realized he much rather would take the world in black and white. Less distractions, less messes, less mismatch. Things were out of place with color. There was also the conclusion; no colors, no soulmate. That would make things easier, it wouldn't have caused this.

People forget. Birthdays, anniversaries, everyone forgets something at some point.

Alfred, a year from being an adult himself, was granted the privilege of sitting at the adults' table. Matthew was there too, but they were still not on speaking terms. It wasn't much of a change. Going from children fighting with food to adults fighting with words within a few feet and two tables. Pick your poison. Alfred would've given anything to be put with the kids that day, even if his legs bumped the table and he was hit in the face with a spoonful of green beans.

A simple conversation, which started like this,"Alfred, pass the butter." An uncle said. Simple, except there were two.

"Which one?"

"The blue label." A second of forgetfulness. Alfred wasn't paying much attention, he forgot too. Everyone else at the table could see the colors. The American easily grabbed the blue one and offered it to his uncle. The table froze. A second too late, he realized his mistake, as he watched the colored shades of faces.

"Alfred?" His mother whispered. The chatter of the children under fourteen filled their background. Her very purple eyes were wide. "Can you see colors?"

He hesitated, and that answered her question better than any words could.

Alfred ran. That was becoming a pattern now. A bad situation, a misstep, a mistake, and he runs. A coward, he'd scold himself later.

The American shut himself in his room, at least he was in his own home. His parents had called after him, but he shut them out when the lock clicked. Could he call Arthur? Was that acceptable? No. Arthur was just a friend. You don't drag friends into this. Even if they _think_ they want it.

The American heard footsteps. Soft, not his father's or uncles'. It better not be _him_. "Alfred?" A whisper slipped under the the door to him. Was he finally accepted now that he saw the mess of pigment like every other matched person? Was he worthy to be talked to now?

"Screw you, Matthew." Alfred hissed, stuffing the words under the door and out to the hall where his twin probably stood. He hadn't changed. Color didn't change him. People didn't change.

"I want to talk. How long have you seen color, eh? Who is it?" The quieter of the two asked. The threat was there, underlying in unsuspecting questions.

"Why do you suddenly want to talk!? It's been four months, and you haven't cared before! What the hell is different now?" Alfred clinched his fists, crescent moons were pressed into his palms. He continued before his brother could. "And don't you tell me color. I still don't give a damn about it!" _I hate it!_ Alfred would've rather scream or maybe cry, maybe both. He hated it, he hated color. He hated the reflection he saw every day in the mirrors, the rainbow books and closets. He hated the greens and the blues.

He hated falling in love.

"Alfred." Why must they all sound so desperate? Desperate for all the wrong reasons. Alfred looked a the ceiling, it was becoming hard to see, his breath caught in his throat. "Let me in, please."

There was silence as Alfred unlocked the door, but left it closed. His voice was breaking, would his heart too? He didn't want to be a slave to fate. He didn't want to fall in love with him.

The door creaked open with Matthew, he shut it softly behind him. The lock's click echoed. They had looked more alike as children, same golden hair, same features, same build. Different eyes, blue haunting Alfred in the mirrors and the sky, purple leaving Matthew unique.

"How long?" The twin sat across from Alfred on the floor.

"Four months."

"Who?"

"Arthur." His voice cracked. Tears were forming, so built up over the years, so ready to fall.

"Do you love him?"

How could one simple word break a seventeen year old heart? " _Yes_."


	8. VIII

**So originally this was going to be the last chapter but I'm debating on doing an epilogue that kind of shows them in a few years. I'm not sure exactly if I'm going to do that or not, but if some of you out there likes that idea, I'll totally do it, tell me below of you think it's a good idea. Prepare for lots of review responses.**

 **Reviews:**

 ** _Hypocritical Romantic:_ ****_Chapter 6:_ Nice username to begin with, but you're going to day dream about this trashy fanfiction?! That fills me with such joy, I'm so happy! But yeah, Arthur's handling this quite, well, much better than how I would. ****_Chapter 7:_ Yep, Alfred finally got around to saying it, but we know he's been debating it for a while. Having things in Arthur's point of view would be interesting too, I might do a bonus chapter with that, or maybe just the epilogue like I mentioned above. POV is something I usually struggle with in stories like this, where it's only one person's POV the whole time, in another story I finished a while back I've been working on a bonus chapter with the other's POV so I'm not sure yet about this one. Sorry about the rant, thanks for reading and being amazing!**

 ** _alguien22792:_ ****Oh yes, Alfred's actions and motives are quite debatable. Even at some points, I just wanted to make Alfred fall in love and be done with it, but no, he's got to take the long way of doing it! Thanks for being such an avid reader!**

 ** _Polly Little:_ ****A review for every chapter?! You are a beautiful person, I love you!** ** _Chapter 2:_ PE locker rooms are always home to the oddest events, in my case, we had three fights over the school year just in locker rooms. I felt it was a unique spot. ****_Chapter 3:_ I don't know if in this case it's exactly painful, more like extremely shocking. I'm sure for some people it would be painful. I mean, imagine it, all your life it's monotone and then suddenly it's all bright and colorful. Just neon colors alone are a lot for me sometimes, and I live in color. It's just an interesting topic I tried to put it. ****_Chapter 4:_ Oh, Arthur is quite dedicated, he's not letting him go that easily. You might've seen it, but Arthur got their address from Matthew and just connected some dots. ****_Chapter 6:_ Their relationship is definitely messy, neither is that sure of what to do because of multiple reasons. The main ones are; one, Arthur isn't sure how to react to Mr. Stubborn aka Alfred; and two, neither of them has ever been in a relationship before this, it's not socially acceptable to be in a relationship with anyone other than your soulmate in this world. And thanks about Sealand, he's so cute, but I never really get to actually give him a big part in anything. ****_Chapter 7:_ Oh, he's going to tell Arthur... To conclude, thank you so much for all the reviews!**

 ** _Guest:_ Let's all admit, Alfred's not very good under pressure. He really wasn't thinking much in that moment other than "I screw up, oh shit." For the pacing, I wanted to originally make this longer, but I could really think of much to add in to make it both good and longer. I ended up with the better version, even if it was shorter than what I'd like to do. Glad you liked it, I love Soulmate AUs, but I rarely find ones that seem natural or normal. Thanks for reading!**

 **Wow, that's long.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.**

That Christmas break was spent with a pair of twins. The rest of the holiday, Alfred refused to talk to anyone but Matthew on the matter. His parents tried their hardest, bribes, begs, stories, but he never said a thing to them. He didn't talk to Arthur either, although the Brit did try just the same.

He called and texted and even tried to show up unexpected. Mattie happened to answer the door and send him away. "Alfred is sick." He had told, think it was a lie, although it was true. Alfred was sick.

He was sick of the colors and his family and the butterflies that kept him up in the dark, late hours. What he would give to go back to last summer, when the outside was white from the absence of color, rather than snow.

"I don't know what to do." Alfred spoke out loud, Matt just happened to be there.

"Tell them."

"Who's them?"

"Mom, Dad, Arthur. Them."

"I don't want to submit to fate." He sighed. "I wanted to make my own choice."

"And you did!" Mattie argued, Alfred glances over at him. "You could've left Arthur in the dirt, but you didn't, why?" The American shrugged, he knew why. He didn't want to. "You made your choice when you didn't leave him. You had to know this would happen. And think about this from Arthur's view, eh? He has waited for you, been a friend, talked with you about this. Give him some slack, at least kiss him, he probably deserves that much!" His brother was getting rilled up about this, probably tired of hearing Alfred complain and argue.

The other remained quiet. He sighed,"Next time Arthur shows up, I'm letting him in." The purple-eyed teenager said, standing from his spot on the floor.

Alfred was silent after he left, and for the rest of the day. This was a mess. Why couldn't fate leave him alone? Why couldn't love?

He had told himself he didn't want this, didn't want Arthur, didn't want color, but his heart hadn't listened. He fell in love anyway. From what he had been told, love wasn't an underlying thing. Shouldn't he had felt it before, shouldn't he have known? The second he felt it, shouldn't he have known he was in love?

Alfred couldn't place when his feelings had begun. He didn't know when Arthur had first caused his heart to skip, when his touch made his skin warm, when had he first gotten lost in his emerald eyes. Was it even Arthur who had done it? Or had fate stepped in, controlling his heart as well as his future?

And he was scared. Terrified. What would happen if Arthur decided this was too much work, that he didn't care enough? What would happen if Arthur wasn't in love? Alfred wasn't sure which was more horrible, falling in love, or not being loved back.

Someone told Alfred once," _Love is simple, especially with your soulmate. You love them, or you don't._ " This wasn't simple at all.

The next time Arthur showed up at his house was two days later. True to his word, Matt let him in, even directing him to Alfred's room. A knock broke the quiet of his vibrant room. Alfred stood, too lost in his other question to ask who was there. He opened the door, saw Arthur, and immediately tried to close it. The Brit didn't let him, using his foot to keep it open.

"You don't look too sick to me." Arthur said, sounding nonchalant, but his piercing eyes told a different story.

"Would it kill you to leave me alone?" Alfred grumbled, squishing Arthur's foot in the attempt to shut his door.

"Yes." He didn't mean that, Alfred told himself. "What's wrong?"

" _Nothing_."

"This obviously isn't _nothing_."

"Yes it is, now please go away." I don't want to tell you I'm in love with you.

"I'm not leaving until you tell me."

"There isn't anything to tell!" Alfred desperately argued, more with himself than Arthur.

"Whatever it is, you can tell me!" Arthur insisted.

"No I can't! You don't understand!" The American exclaimed

"Understand what!?"

"That I'm in love with you!"

Quiet wasn't calming, and love wasn't simple, like people said. That's what Alfred decided in the moments between his confession and the next two words. The moments where Arthur's eyes filled with such a strong emotion Alfred couldn't place. Where his heart sped, and his skin turned to a pastel pink. Arthur's freckles hid behind his blush.

"You are?" Funny how volume could be so loud your ears are buzzing, to so quiet the world seems empty in the matter of seconds.

Alfred didn't answer, instead, he watched the wood floorboards. His shoe lingered in the corner of his eye, no longer squished in between the door and doorway. "Alfred...?"

This couldn't be love. Everyone said it was amazing, so warm and exciting it crushed you. Alfred wasn't warm and happy and excited. He felt like breaking down and crying, it would be much easier that the rest of this conversation, if there was one.

The Brit was silent, his expression was hidden by the American's golden bangs. Would he run, cry, scream at him? Alfred wished he would at least do something. Anything was better than the quiet. It haunted him.

Finally he snapped. Arthur broke their still silence, although, not by any words. He rushed into Alfred's arms, with such a force it almost knocked Alfred off his feet. The both stumbled backward into his room. This wasn't like the stubborn Brit at all, to go running into his arms, latching onto him like he would run away. But unlike himself, Alfred returned the gesture, uneasily wrapping his tanner arms around Arthur's thin frame.

His face was buried in Alfred's shoulder, messy light blond hair brushing his red cheeks. "I-I never thought- I didn't- Oh, God-" Arthur was probably crying, there was a damp spot on his shirt, and he couldn't make a full sentence. They sunk to his floor, both sitting and wrapped around each other. There were sniffles in the air, belonging to both of the teenagers. Alfred hugged him tighter, why did this seem so right?

"Do you really?" The Brit breathed. "Do you really love me?"

"Yeah." Alfred murmured, his first tear finally fell. "I didn't want to! I really didn't!" He squeezed the Brit and hid his face in him. "I didn't want to be in _love_!"

"What about now?" Arthur broke away, Alfred felt too empty without his touch.

They both watched each other, a thousand colors in their eyes, a thousand feelings between them. "I don't want this to be fake." He whispered. "I wish I knew." His face felt hot, his tears were hindering his vision, even with glasses. In an attempt to find something, anything, to do, rather than just stare, the American removed his glasses, wiping the lens and trying to stop. Stop crying, stop loving? He didn't know which.

A freckled hand brushed his cheek, wiping away his fallen tears. "No one knows." Their eyes met again, and Arthur's hand fell. "No one can really know, I know I don't." He found Alfred's hand and intertwined their fingers, they fit together unnaturally perfectly. "It's up to us to make it real, we have to want to. No one can do that for you." The American returned his glasses to his face.

"I want to try. I want this to be real." Alfred determined quietly. Arthur burst into the biggest smile he had ever seen, he couldn't help to somewhat reflect it. There were still tears, but somehow they had changed to something a bit happier.

"Alright." Arthur chuckled.

"Okay." Alfred started to weakly laugh too.

It was tears and laughter. It was a mix of emotions that left his head hurting, his stomach fluttering, and his heart beating far too fast.

It was love.


End file.
